


A Sticky Situation

by hollyxhawthorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, Office Sex, Semi-Clothed Sex, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10376784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyxhawthorn/pseuds/hollyxhawthorn
Summary: Harry walks in on a sticky situation while investigating a potions case.





	

“Potter, Weasley, new assignment!” Robards barked out, tossing a file in Harry’s direction. Harry, hunched and dozing off, jolted upright as the file landed on his desk. Across their shared office, an identical file bounced off of Ron’s sleeping form and fluttered to the ground, expelling its contents everywhere. Ron awoke with a snort. 

“Sir. Sorry, late night on raid,” Harry yawned. He picked up the file and flipped through a few pages, trying to clear his mind and appear attentive.

Robards’ mouth hardened into a grim line as he took in the mountain of empty take-away containers, the overflowing rubbish bin in the corner, the stacks of files, half-finished coffee mugs, and the Chudley Cannons’ figures zipping around on Ron’s desk.

“Illicit potions have been circulating on the black market. Desirable and tricky ones such as Felix Felicis.”

Ron was trying to spell the sheets back into the file, causing a whirlwind of fluttering in the process. He looked up to find Robards had paused to glare at him.

“The problem is these potions have been altered with cheap ingredients, swapping out unicorn hair for kneazle and that sort of shit. Nasty side-effects, caused some old witch to sprout tentacles all over her body. I need you both to investigate the suspects and their possible involvement.” Robards continued.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied through another yawn, while Ron cursed loudly as a page flew into his face. 

“Right away, sir!” Ron said as he straightened up, sheets of parchment jammed haphazardly into the file in his hand.

“Just get to it.” Robards said sternly. He shook his head and stalked out of their office.

Harry leafed through the file, “Suspects. Ainsley Winslowe, master potioneer at Winslowe and Winks; Richard Cranesworth, taught potions at Ilvermorny for over 15 years, now supposedly retired in London; Stephen Cornfoot from our year at Hogwarts, apparently runs an owl order business for—”  

“Draco Malfoy, known ex-death eater.” Ron interrupted, staring at a page in his hand.

Harry frowned, flipped through the file, and scanned the page Ron was reading aloud.   
  
_Draco Malfoy, known ex-Death Eater, son of Lucius Malfoy (committed to a life sentence in Azkaban for crimes associated with dark wizardry), god son of Severus Snape (deceased, potions professor at Hogwarts)._

According to the background check, he had worked to clear the Malfoy name through sheer determination and had contributed to various charities until he founded his own, Quiddix. Malfoy’s organisation mainly provided equipment and opportunities to play Quidditch for young muggle-borns and war orphans who didn’t have the magical background or funds.

“Always knew that git was up to no good. I knew his charity was just a front,” Ron said.

“I dunno, do you think Malfoy would sell illegal botched potions for money?” Harry pushed the file aside.

“I suppose not, but I'm sure he spent a lot of the Malfoy money on legal fees for his father.” Ron said smugly.

Harry leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. “I think the last I saw him was during the trials after the battle. He can’t be the person he used to be if he’s starting charities and giving back to the community. Unless he is truly up to something.”

Ron shot him an amused look. “Whatever mate, just know that I am not getting involved in your Malfoy obsession. I didn’t in sixth year, and definitely won’t now. I’m taking Winslowe and Cornfoot. You get Malfoy and Cranesworth.”

“I was never obsessed. And I was right about him back in sixth year,” Harry protested.

Ron laughed and pulled his robes on. “Okay, if you say so. I’m off to meet Ginny and Dean for lunch, do you wanna join?”

“I think I’ll start working on the case right away, say hi to them for me, though.”

Ron nodded and left.

Harry opened the file again and scanned the photos. Malfoy’s photo looked dated and it might have been taken during the trials. He appeared exactly as Harry remembered him from their time at Hogwarts. The photo scowled at him and turned away.

Harry imagined Cranesworth to be the likely culprit, given his extensive dealing with potions, but he figured it would be best to quickly eliminate Malfoy as a suspect and move on with the investigation.

Harry scanned the file for the Quiddix headquarters address. It happened to be around the corner from a popular fish and chips joint. Harry shrugged on his Auror robes, resolving to pay Malfoy a visit after lunch.

_____

“Luna?” Harry was surprised to see her at the front desk when he stepped through the entrance of Quiddix.

“Oh, hullo, Harry, it’s so nice to see you!” Luna came around and greeted him with a warm hug, her radish earrings swaying as she pulled away. “Are you here to volunteer? It’s a lovely little organization, isn’t it?”

“I’m not too familiar with the organization, I’m actually here on Auror duty.” Harry answered.

Harry glanced around, wondering where Malfoy’s office was. The space was bright and airy, with tall windows lining the walls; several people milled around, some were huddled over desks, examining broom designs, others were discussing budget allocation for donations.

“Oh, Harry, you should really consider it! I interviewed Draco for an exclusive Quibbler piece about Quiddix and he convinced me to volunteer my time. We all love it here, Draco is so kind to us, and he really appreciates everything we do.”

Harry’s brows raised in incredulity. “Wow, Luna, that sounds great. Can you send me a copy of that Quibbler article? Also, I’d like to speak to Malfoy if he’s in.”

Luna beamed. “Of course, I’ll owl you a copy! And no, you can’t. But I’ll tell him you came by.” She hummed, turning to sort through a stack of envelopes. 

“Uh—Luna. Sorry, but, official duty?” Harry gestured to his scarlet robes and badge. 

“Oh, Harry. You’ve a lot of wrackspurts around you. Best come back another day when you’re not so confused. Draco doesn’t see anyone at this hour.” 

Harry glanced at his watch, the one Molly and Arthur had given him on his seventeenth birthday. “It’s nearly three, Luna. Why doesn’t Malfoy see anyone at this hour?” 

Luna looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. But if he’s in the office, he usually gets an owl around this time and asks that no one disturb him.”

Harry’s suspicion rose immediately. If Malfoy was involved with illegal potions, Harry would have to tread more carefully than he had intended. “Alright. I’ll come back tomorrow morning. If you could tell him that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay, I will. And you should think about volunteering! Bye Harry!”

Harry waved over his shoulder and left.

_____

Ron was chatting with Susan Bones when Harry arrived at the Auror headquarters the next morning. Harry nodded to them and made his way to his office. He tossed his Auror robes onto the chair and picked up the _Quibbler_ article that had been delivered to his desk along with other memos. Ron came in and handed him a coffee. 

“How did that meeting with Malfoy go?” Ron threw himself into Harry’s chair and started swivelling in slow circles.

“It didn’t,” Harry said as he skimmed the _Quibbler_ article.

There was a photo of Malfoy in it, leaning against a desk with a glass of Firewhiskey in hand. Harry narrowed his eyes, thinking he saw a hint of mischief in Malfoy’s eyes as they met his from the photo.

He looked older than Harry remembered. His boyish features had sharpened into strong lines, his hair was cropped on the sides but longer on the top, artfully styled in that carefully messy manner Harry would never manage in a million years, and his body had filled out. 

The article gave no information of interest. It featured a summary of what he already knew from Malfoy’s background check. Harry tossed the Quibbler aside and leaned heavily against the edge of the desk.

“He wasn’t available when I stopped by. Luna was there, though. She says he usually receives an owl around three, shuts himself in his office, and asks not to be disturbed.” 

Ron stopped swivelling, “What? That’s odd.”

Harry nodded, “I thought so. I’m going back this morning to investigate.”

“What is Luna doing there?”

“She volunteers there, says she loves it and that Malfoy is wonderful,” Harry said.

Ron looked thoughtful. “Malfoy, wonderful? Blimey, she’s as loony as ever. I was joking about him needing the gold, but maybe he is the one behind all this.”

“I caught up with Cornfoot yesterday, and I doubt he’s the one.” Ron added and resumed swivelling. “He runs an owl order business for impotency potions, but actually specializes in, erm—other things, not potions.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted, “What things?” he asked.

Ron paused and turned red. “He sells muggle sex toys that have been charmed. And I only knew to ask him cause I asked Ginny yesterday if she knew what he was up to lately,” Ron said defensively.

“And Ginny knew this?” Harry asked, a note of amusement in his voice. They had broken up several years ago and were on friendly terms now, but they had never had any of those in the bedroom. 

“Yea, mate, but she’s my little sister, and I’m sure she heard this stuff second hand.” Ron said firmly.

Harry suppressed a laugh, Ginny was anything but innocent, but he was never going to challenge Ron on that one.

“Anyway,” Ron continued. “He admitted to it and said that business was booming, mostly with the middle-aged population. He showed me his ledgers. It all seems to check out.”

“I tried visiting Cranesworth at his listed home address after leaving Quiddix yesterday, but he no longer lives there. I’ve asked Properties to try and track down his current address.” Harry said.

Ron nodded, “I’m heading over to Winslowe and Winks today, I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Want to meet up for lunch at the Leaky?”

Harry’s mood lifted. Friday lunch special at the Leaky Cauldron was bangers and mash. “Yea, that sounds great. I’ll see you there.”

_____

“Morning, Luna,” Harry said as he walked into Quiddix.

“Harry, you’re back!” She beamed at him. “Draco’s expecting you, I’ll show you the way.”

She led him through the open space, past a conference room, and towards the back, where there were a series of closed doors. Harry glanced around as he followed Luna, but spotted no blatant displays of suspicious activity. The corner office door bore a shiny nameplate that read: _Draco Malfoy, Founder and CEO._

Luna knocked twice and called out in a singsong voice. “Draco, Harry’s here to see you.”

Harry couldn’t hear the reply, but Luna opened the door and gestured for him to go in. “I’ll be at the front if you need me,” she smiled and walked off.

Harry drew himself up to his full height and entered the office.

“Potter,” Malfoy greeted him from behind the heavy oak desk Harry had seen in the photo. His hair was slightly shorter, but still artfully styled. It matched the look of his navy blazer and fitted white dress shirt.

“Please take a seat,” he gestured to the upholstered chairs in front of the desk.

“Thanks for meeting with me, Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Malfoy stood up and walked over to a small, walnut veneered bar cart.

“It’s eleven, Malfoy.” Harry replied, caught off-guard.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed with his smile. “Hair of the dog then, shall we say?” He said, then turned towards the bar.

Harry scanned Malfoy’s desk. There were only a few things on the desk, a quill on top of a blotter, a copy of _Which Broomstick_ , and a few neatly stacked scrolls.

Malfoy’s office was similarly tidy, with bookshelves lining the walls and a few abstract paintings. A small sitting area, featuring a leather couch and a couple of armchairs, surrounded a low, oak table. Behind Malfoy’s desk, tall windows showed an overcast day.

Malfoy returned to his desk and handed Harry a tumbler of Firewhiskey. “Thanks,” Harry said, and firmly set the tumbler down on the desk. Malfoy looked unfazed as he took a sip from his own.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? Surely the Boy Who Lived is not interested in volunteering?” Malfoy asked, but the effect was ruined by the sneer across his face. 

Harry frowned. After hearing Luna sing her praises about Malfoy, he was expecting a little more warmth from the man.

“Auror business, Malfoy.” Harry said gruffly.

“Oh, Auror business?” Malfoy’s eyes travelled over Harry’s body, taking in his unbuttoned scarlet robes and muggle t-shirt and jeans underneath.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, aware he was underdressed compared to Malfoy.

“Yea, I’m just going to ask you a few questions—”

“I’m not a Death Eater anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.” Malfoy interrupted, holding Harry’s gaze. He lifted the tumbler to sip at his Firewhiskey.

“What is it you do here, Malfoy?”

“If you enlighten yourself by reading the news every now and then, you would know that I run a successful charitable organisation. Highly reputable and well-adored by the wizarding community. Everyone loves giving unfortunate children a chance to play Quidditch.”

“And that’s all you do? How are you getting by? I’ve heard the Malfoy fortune has depleted quite a bit.”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed with annoyance, “I’m getting by fine, thank you very much. I don’t think the state of the Malfoy vaults is any of your concern, _Potter_.” 

“So you’re not involved in any side dealings?”

“I’m here almost every day of the week, and when I’m not here, I’m liaising with the many investors and donators we have contributing to the cause.” 

Draco flicked his wand and unfurled one of the scrolls on the desk, revealing prototype broom designs.

“We also have our own line of brooms available through our exclusive supplier, Quality Quidditch Supplies.” He flicked his wand again to roll up the scroll.

“I don’t know what _you_ do with yourself Potter, but not everyone has the luxury of stomping around like a brute, demanding answers from people with the subtlety of a bicorn, calling themselves an _Auror,_ and patting themselves on the back for a job well done.”

Malfoy drained the rest of his Firewhiskey and put the tumbler down on his blotter with more force than intended.

Anger flared up in Harry. “What are you hiding? I came in yesterday only to learn that you were not to be disturbed.”

Malfoy blinked, then slowly stood up with a look of incredulity. “You never change, do you, Potter? Well, I have. I’m not the same person I was back at Hogwarts. And I can assure you I am not involved in any side dealings.” 

Harry stood up too. “I’m not done questioning you, Malfoy. Sit down.”

Malfoy defiantly remained standing with his head tilted, and looked down his nose at Harry.

“Can you account for your whereabouts at three o’clock every day?” Harry asked, his eyes steadily holding Malfoy’s cold grey gaze.

Malfoy stiffened and a cruel smile spread across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Malfoy strode around the desk and went to open the door. “We’re done here. I don’t owe you anything.”

Harry suppressed the urge to hex Malfoy and drag him in for questioning. Instead, he picked up the Firewhiskey, drained the glass, and set it back down. 

“Thanks for the drink.” Harry said, giving Malfoy his blandest smile as he stomped out of the office.

_____

“Wow, what an insufferable git,” Ron said around a mouthful of mash.

Harry pushed a bit of sausage around on his plate. He had just finished telling Ron about everything that had transpired between himself and  Malfoy, and found his appetite had disappeared along the way.

“Yea, he’s still the same arse that we know.” Harry abandoned his fork and grabbed the pint.

“I dunno, I’m thinking I should follow him around and see what he’s up to. Or maybe I can find out what the owls bring him every day at three?”

Ron chewed thoughtfully, “Maybe—but remember, last time we did that, Robards got real shirty with us, probably shouldn’t be tampering with the owls again.”

Harry put down his pint. “We cracked the case, though.”

Ron nodded.

“Well—I could do a bit of surveillance.” Harry mused aloud. 

“Yea, I suppose so. I do recall that you like following him around.” Ron flashed him a grin with bits of mash stuck in his teeth. Sometimes Harry wondered what it was that Hermione saw in Ron.

“If you’re stuck on Malfoy, I can check up on Cranesworth. I think Properties sent over his new address, so I can take a look after lunch.”

“Yea, alright, and what about Winslowe?” Harry asked.

“I spoke with some of the employees at Winslowe and Winks and they say he’s been in St. Mungo’s the past month. Possibly has the same illness that Winks had shortly before he died. Something about inhaling too much dragon talon powder and poor ventilation in the potions lab.” Ron looked solemn.

“We’re not getting anywhere with this case.” Harry said glumly.

“Well, there’s still Malfoy,” Ron said. “And I’ll check out this Cranesworth bloke.”

“Thanks mate, appreciate it.”

Ron waved off Harry’s thanks. “Are you coming out for drinks tonight?”  

“I think I’m going to do a bit of surveillance this afternoon, but I’ll be there later tonight. Who’s picking this week?” 

“Hermione. She wants to check out that new cocktail lounge that opened up in Soho. Apparently, it’s some sort of library bar?” Ron rolled his eyes, smiling good-naturedly.

Harry laughed. “Yea, okay, I’ll be there.”

_____

The bar was packed by the time Harry arrived. He had spent the majority of the afternoon looming outside Quiddix, before heading over to the Auror training rooms to run laps. By the time Harry had showered and thrown on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and his sportcoat, it was already half past ten. 

“Oi, Harry!” Ron waved Harry over to the dark corner the group had claimed. Harry spotted Hermione next to Ron, who had cleaned up nicely, sporting a pair of dark trousers and a blue polo to match Hermione’s smart, red dress. 

Harry wove his way through the dimly lit space, passing by several groups lounging on small clusters of leather sofas and armchairs. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, more for aesthetic than for any other purpose.

Harry reached the group, gave Ron a friendly slap on the back and nodded to Dean, who was perched on the arm of Ginny’s chair. Ginny was laughing with a drink in hand.

Harry gave Hermione and Ginny quick hugs before sinking into one of the armchairs. Hermione handed him a drink, which he gladly accepted.

“Cheers, sorry I’m late.” Harry downed the drink in one go.

“Rough day?” Hermione smiled at him, with only the slightest hint of concern on her face.

“Yea, did Ron tell you about Malfoy?”

She nodded. “Malfoy was pleasant enough to me when he was seeking Ministry funding for Quiddix, despite our history and everything.” Hermione waved her hand vaguely.

“Funny, the way he’s treated me then. He was just as rude and pretentious today as he was back at Hogwarts.” Harry said.

“I’d have hexed him,” Ron said and tilted his pint towards Harry. 

“A few of the new reserves are swooning over him. Priscilla cut out his photo from that Quibbler article and stuck it in her locker, for personal reasons, she said.” Ginny waggled her eyebrows and laughed.

“I remember that article. He’s definitely matured since Hogwarts and I can see the appeal.” Dean admitted. Ginny cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder, giving Dean an amused look.

“But, of course, not even remotely as appealing as my beautiful girlfriend.” Dean added hastily with laughter, looping his arm around Ginny and pulling her closer.

Harry looked down at his empty glass and begrudgingly admitted to himself that, _objectively,_ Malfoy was pretty fit, and he wore suits well. Dean wasn’t even gay, and he could appreciate the way Malfoy looked. But no — Malfoy was all harsh angles and cold, grey eyes. Harry preferred someone a little less icy.

“A couple of weeks ago he brought a group of kids to watch our game against the Montrose Magpies, and then he took them to meet the teams,” Ginny said.

“Free seats to a Magpies game? How can I get in on this?” Ron asked. Ginny rolled her eyes in response.

“I didn’t speak to him, but apparently he made a great impression on everyone. Demelza called him a tall and handsome philanthropist.”

Harry snorted in disbelief and looked over to the crowded bar. If he had to sit through the entire night listening about Malfoy and being a fifth wheel, he definitely needed another drink.

“Right.” Harry stood up, “I’m getting a drink, anyone need another?”

“Ohh, a glass of red for me, please.” Ginny said.

Harry nodded and made his way over to the bar. He had just finished ordering when someone bumped into him. Harry automatically reached out with a steady hand. 

“Shit, sorry!”

“Malfoy?” Harry quickly dropped his hand and stepped away, taking in Malfoy’s tousled hair, blown-out pupils and slightly swollen lips.

“Oh _fuck_ , Potter.” Malfoy huffed. “Are you following me?” he asked, slurring the words. Malfoy swayed a little on the spot and looked around suspiciously, as though expecting Aurors to be surrounding them.

Harry eyed the line of Malfoy’s neck, disappearing into the dark, v-neck jumper hugging his chest and accentuating his slender figure. His sleeves were pushed up, exposing his slender wrists, the edge of the Dark Mark visible at the cuff.

Harry looked away and shifted further from Malfoy. Malfoy was _not_ attractive. Even if he was, he was still a former Death Eater, and a huge git.

“No, I’m not following you. I’m here with my friends.” Harry said in an annoyed voice, looking anywhere except at Malfoy.

The bartender came back with Harry’s drinks. Harry grabbed the glass of Macallan and drained it.

“Really, Potter. You expect me to believe that?” Malfoy sneered, but Harry could see his body relax. Malfoy turned towards Harry and eyed him, dark grey eyes trailing over his body.

Harry signalled for another glass of whiskey.

Malfoy forced in closer, angling himself between Harry and the bar. He smelled like expensive cologne, spice and warmth. Harry tried to pull back from the heady scent, but Malfoy snaked an arm around his waist, fingers light against the thin cotton of Harry’s shirt, pulling him close.

Malfoy brushed his lips against Harry’s ear. “I know you’re obsessed with me. You’re just dying to know what I get up to, aren’t you?” He pulled away and laughed.

The bartender came back with another Macallan. Malfoy deftly picked up the glass and shot it back, eyes fluttering closed. Harry stared at the pale expanse of Malfoy’s neck and swallowed thickly.

Malfoy put the glass down, licked his lips, and stared intensely into Harry’s eyes. Harry suppressed a sudden urge to taste the remnants of the Macallan on Malfoy’s lips.

“Draco, there you are. Ready to go?” A voice interrupted from behind them. Harry tore his gaze away from Malfoy and saw a young brunet looking uncertainly at himself and Malfoy.

Malfoy pushed off the bar and moved towards the bloke. Mid-stride, he paused, turned over his shoulder to look back at Harry, and gave him a seductive smile.

“Thanks for the drink, Potter.”

Harry watched on as Malfoy wrapped his arm around the bloke and disappeared into the crowd.

_____

Harry floo’d over to Ron and Hermione’s early the next morning.

“Where did you go last night?” Hermione asked. She placed a cup of tea in front of him and swept her wand over a carton of eggs, setting to prepare breakfast. Ron was asleep, his loud snores echoing down the hall.

Harry had apparated back to Auror headquarters after Malfoy had left him at the bar. He had then determinedly reviewed the notes and added a few extra details about Malfoy. It was almost dawn by the time Harry woke up with his face buried in the files, half hard from fragmented dreams involving Malfoy and that brunet.

“I bumped into Malfoy.”

Hermione turned to look at him. “Oh, Harry, you didn’t follow him, did you?”

“No Hermione, I didn’t.” Harry said firmly.

She sighed and turned towards the pan of bacon crisping on the stove, prodding it with her wand. “Well, you’ve always been infatuated with him.” She floated a plate of buttered toast in front of Harry.

Harry spluttered, hand hovering over the toast, “I’m not, he bumped into me. And—” he hesitated, “He was with some other bloke.”

“Does that surprise you? I know you don’t read the papers anymore, but he’s made it publicly clear he fancies blokes.” Hermione looked thoughtful. “Actually, it might have been around the time you came out to the press.” She spelled the bacon and eggs onto plates set out on the table.

“I didn’t know.” Harry mumbled and stabbed at a piece of bacon.

“Was he rude to you?” Hermione asked. She sat down across from him, cradling her mug, looking at him with concern.

“He was kinda out of it, drunk, I’m pretty sure. Laughing—almost like he was teasing me.” Harry admitted, looking away from Hermione.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry, you’re investigating him for a case, you know better than to be flirting with him.”

“Flirting?” Harry snorted. “First of all, I don’t even like him. Why anyone finds him attractive is baffling to me.” He shoveled a few forkfuls of egg into his mouth.

“Secondly, if there was any flirting, he was doing all of it on his own.” Harry said thickly.

“Just be careful, Harry.”

“Don’t worry Hermione. I know what I’m doing.” Harry said and reached for another slice of toast.

Hermione bristled in annoyance and drank her tea.

_____

“Cranesworth is completely barmy.” Ron said, walking into their office late Thursday morning. He threw his robes onto a chair and picked up the coffee Harry had left on his desk.

Harry put down the stack of photos he had taken over the last few days of surveillance outside Quiddix. 

“Isn’t he a retired professor?”

“Forced retirement, he couldn’t teach anymore because he was slowly going mad. Apparently it runs in the family.” Ron said.

Ron picked up Harry’s surveillance photos and began flipping through the stack.

“Why is he in London then?” 

“He moved in with his niece. She’s taking care of him now. A real looker too.” Ron grinned.

Harry laughed, “Don’t let Hermione hear that.”

“Don’t let me hear what?” Hermione walked in. Her hair was dishevelled and she had a quill tucked behind her ear.

“Uh—uh, Harry was just talking about some bloke’s arse.” Ron stammered and rolled his eyes. “ _No one_ wants to hear about that.”

Harry shot Ron a look, “Yea, mate. Sorry.” he said blandly. Hermione frowned at the both of them, unconvinced.

“I’ve got a meeting with Kingsley soon; what is it you wanted help with, Harry?”

Harry shuffled through the surveillance photos and handed one to Hermione. It showed an owl struggling to fly through an open window with a large parcel tied to its legs. The parcel was sealed with official stamps and markings. “Do you recognise any of these markings?”

Hermione frowned and scanned the photo. “These look like Ministry seals, except ours are typically red.” Her brows knit in concentration as she cast a series of spells on the photo. The owl’s flight slowed, and the seal was still blurred in motion, but you could just make out the impressions of the word _Ministère_.

“This looks like a parcel from the French Ministry of Magic. Why would Quiddix be receiving parcels from anyone there?” 

Ron hovered to get a closer look. “Don’t suppose it could be a donation?”

“Every day at three?” Harry asked skeptically as he pulled a few more photos from the pile. “This one was taken on Monday at three, and these two are from yesterday and the day before.”

“The French minister is really generous?” Ron scrubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Really, Ron?” Hermione looked exasperated. “You could just ask him, Harry.”

“And risk being thrown out of his office again?” Harry paused. “I was thinking I’ll just use the invisibility cloak to sneak into his office.”

“Brilliant, mate!”

Hermione sighed. “I can see why Robards barely tolerates the two of you. Do you ever take your jobs seriously, and maybe follow protocol once in awhile?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged. “We solve cases,” Ron responded confidently.

“You can’t sneak into his office, _invisible or not_ , without cause and a warrant.” Hermione stated. 

“These parcels are probable cause!” Harry argued.

“Not if you don’t have evidence to support the theory that he’s behind these potions.” 

“They’re probably filled with kneazle-hair, I’m betting.” Ron countered.

Hermione sighed again, “Right. I’m not getting involved! It’s really for the best that I don’t know what the two of you are up to. then I wouldn’t have to explain to Robards why I didn’t stop you.” She put down the photo and left.

“So… the plan is to ambush Malfoy, right?” Ron grinned at Harry.

_____

   
Harry arrived at Quiddix a little after three in the afternoon. Hermione’s nagging had prevailed, and Harry thought he would make one last effort to talk civilly with Malfoy.

Harry stalled for a moment when he realised it wasn’t Luna at the desk, but Pansy Parkinson, with her angled bob and flawless skin.

Parkinson’s eyes flicked up from the letters she was filing. They widened a fraction in recognition, but her expression remained the same.

“Potter.” she said with a bored tone. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Malfoy. Official Auror business.” Harry said firmly.

“You’ll have to come back later,” Parkinson countered rudely. Her eyes narrowed in warning, lingering on Harry for a second before she resumed sorting letters.

Annoyed, Harry hastily rushed past the desk, ignoring Parkinson’s shouts after him. He headed towards Malfoy’s office, and flung open the door to it before anyone could stop him.

What Harry saw made his heart skip a beat.

Malfoy's head abruptly emerged from behind the desk at the sound of intrusion. He was kneeling in front of Blaise Zabini, who was lounging in Malfoy’s chair with his arms over his head. Malfoy’s face was flushed, and his mouth was agape with what appeared to be a white substance clinging to the corners of his mouth.

At that moment, Zabini swivelled around in Malfoy's chair and caught sight of Harry frozen under the threshold of the door. “What the fuck—Potter?!”  

Malfoy must have set an _Impedimenta_ ward on his door, because Harry couldn’t move from where he was standing, one hand braced on the handle, his foot wavering mid-stride. 

Harry’s face flushed brilliant red as he tore his eyes away, turned on his heel, and fled Malfoy’s office.

_____

Harry returned to the Auror headquarters, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had seen in Malfoy’s office.

Harry closed his eyes, and all he could see was Malfoy's flushed face and pink lips. Malfoy on his knees in front of Zabini, which soon turned into Malfoy on his knees in front of Harry. Malfoy’s hand firmly wrapped around Harry's erection while Malfoy’s hot mouth did unspeakable things to Harry.

Harry knew he was not going to get any work done in his aroused state. He packed up the files, left Ron a memo that he was not feeling well, and floo'd home.

Barely outside the fireplace grate, Harry pushed a hand under his pants. He collapsed onto the sofa and frantically jerked his erection. Harry abandoned all pretense that he didn't think Malfoy looked fucking fit as hell in his poncy suit, and imagined that it was Malfoy's hand tugging on his cock. He felt his balls tighten, his hand a blur over his cock, and thought of Malfoy's lips covered with come. Harry groaned loudly as his cock twitched, and he came in his hand. Harry lay sprawled on the couch, sticky and languid, still in his Auror robes. As he stared at the ceiling, he realised with dismay that he was barely satisfied, feeling hot and bothered more than he had ever recalled being.

_____

The next morning, Harry combed through the case notes he and Ron had compiled on the investigation. He wanted to determine if he had missed anything with the other suspects. His face burned at the thought of having to go back to Quiddix, especially considering Harry was no longer sure about Malfoy being the prime suspect.

Ron hurried in, waving a parchment, a huge grin on his face. “We got him!”

“What? Who was it?”

“It was Winslowe! Turns out he hadn’t come down with Scrofungulus, he faked it so that he could ward off suspicion.” Ron slapped the sheet onto Harry’s desk. It was a record of arrest for Winslowe.

“Turns out that between him and Winks, Winks was the master potioneer of the two, and when he died, Winslowe could not even brew a pepper up without it going to shambles. He’s been pawning off his failed potions on the black market recoup his losses.”

“That’s brilliant, mate.” Harry slapped Ron on the back. “How did you figure it out?”

“I received a tip yesterday, while you were out. A few people had shown up at St. Mungo’s with tentacles, similar to the side-effects caused by the black market potions. However, they had bought theirs directly from Winslowe and Winks.”

“So—Winslowe’s staff must have accidentally stocked some of the failed potions.” Harry surmised.

“Exactly.” Ron grinned, and perched on the edge of Harry’s desk, knocking over a few files. “Another case closed.”

Harry grinned back. Maybe his days as an Auror weren’t as thrilling as the final years of the war, what with taking down crooked potioneers instead of dark wizards, but Harry didn’t mind in the least.

“You’re feeling okay today?” Ron asked.

“Much better, sorry for running out on you. I should have been there for the arrest.” Harry said.

“No worries, mate, I had Bones for back-up.” Ron shrugged. “Did you end up ambushing Malfoy? What is he up to, now that we know he’s not the one behind this?”

Harry felt himself turn red and hastily stooped to pick up a few files. “I went over at three o’clock, but Parkinson was there and—” he straightened up and placed the files on top of a stack, “—she refused to let me in.”

He wasn’t sure why he lied to Ron, but he wasn’t comfortable with explaining what he had seen.

“Tough luck mate.” Ron said, ducking as an owl zoomed in.

The owl deposited a letter on Harry’s desk and perched on the edge. Harry quickly unfolded the note, which was from Luna:

_Hi Harry,_

_Draco would like to invite you over to Quiddix today. He said there was something he needed to discuss with you. Are you free to come by for for a visit around quarter to three?_

_—Luna_  

Harry’s stomach dropped as he read the loopy script. He did not want to go back to Malfoy’s office, especially now that the potions case was closed.

Ron leaned over and scanned the note. “Blimey, Malfoy wants you to meet him? This could be your opportunity to find out what’s in those parcels. Maybe he’s involved in some other sort of shady business.” 

Harry’s fingers twitched, and he quelled the urge to scrunch up the note. “I suppose,” he said slowly. He reluctantly reached for a quill and scrawled a short reply. Harry attached the reply to the owl’s leg. The owl took off as swiftly as it had arrived.

Ron slid off of Harry’s desk and headed out. “I’m going to grab a coffee, you want one?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Harry said.

 Harry slumped back in his chair and carded his fingers through his hair, sighing. He was not looking forward to meeting Malfoy.

_____

Malfoy was lounging on the couch in his office with a cup of tea in hand when Harry stepped in at quarter to three. A porcelain tea service was laid out on the low table.

“Potter.” Malfoy drawled. He set his cup down and gestured to the seat next to him.

“Malfoy.” Harry greeted as he entered Malfoy’s office. Harry’s eyes flicked towards the armchair across from the couch before he sat down next to Malfoy.

Malfoy eyed him with a cool expression. Harry held his gaze, despite feeling his cheeks flush.

“Tea, Potter?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Malfoy waved his wand at the tea service and charmed a cup over to Harry. Harry accepted, grateful to have something occupy his hands.

Malfoy’s eyes continued to drift over Harry’s messy hair, the t-shirt clinging to Harry’s chest, and the length of his jeans. Harry took a drink from his cup.

Malfoy stood up and went over to look out the window. “I asked you to come here because I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.”

Harry allowed himself to study Malfoy’s lean body clad in an impeccably cut navy suit. Through the reflection in the window, he could see Malfoy’s light blue tie around his collared shirt, and polished brown oxfords.

Harry cleared his throat. “You don’t have to explain. I shouldn’t have barged in like that, and I’m sorry I intruded.”

Malfoy turned to face Harry, amusement playing across his lips. “The saviour of the wizarding world, apologising to me. If only father could hear this.”

Harry got up to leave. “Well, I won’t bother you anymore. The case I was working on was solved, and I don’t have any more cause to be investigating your business or activities.”

Malfoy opened the window, letting draft in. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding about yesterday’s events.”

Harry paused. “Misunderstanding? Right. I don’t think so... I saw Zabini here yesterday.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t—”

“I don’t think I need to hear it, Malfoy.” Harry interrupted. “I was here yesterday. I saw you at that bar last Friday. I know you fancy blokes.”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. He left the window and went back to the sitting area.

Malfoy picked up his tea, and sat down, crossing his leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “What  _did_ you see yesterday, Potter?”

Harry felt flustered. He put down the cup, stood, and paced across the room to where Malfoy was standing earlier. Harry regained composure with the distance between them. 

“You were on your knees in front of Zabini—” Harry swallowed and turned to glance at Malfoy, “and you were—pleasuring him.” Harry’s face flushed and he lowered his eyes, turning towards the window. “Or maybe you had already finished pleasuring him by then.”

Malfoy’s lips were pressed together, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, “You thought about this, didn’t you Potter? After you left?” 

Harry turned to face Malfoy again, but said nothing.

Malfoy stood and walked over to lean against the desk, facing Harry from a closer vantage.

“Did you think about me sucking Blaise off right here in my office? On my knees, gagging for it, taking his hard cock into my hot mouth?”

Harry’s eyes darkened. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Malfoy, from Malfoy’s mouth specifically. He could feel himself begin to react, his cock stiffening with arousal.

Malfoy’s silky voice continued. “Did you wank thinking about my tongue wrapped around your shaft? Did you imagine it was you I was sucking off, and letting you come all over my face?”

Malfoy grazed his fingers over the soft wool of his own trousers. His eyes fluttered closed as he started to palm and stroke himself, growing harder with every passing moment.

Harry knew he should leave. He had no idea what Malfoy was playing at, but Harry couldn’t seem to move from his spot anyway. His breathing became erratic, and his erection pressed against the zip of his jeans.

A sudden movement from the window startled both of them. Malfoy’s breath hitched in surprise and his eyes flew open. He let his hand drop and moved towards the owl that had flown into the office.

Harry pulled his eyes away from Malfoy and sat down in the armchair, elbows on knees. He stared at the patterns of the rug and concentrated on evening out his breath, willing his erection to subside. 

The owl carried a parcel with the same French seals Harry had seen in the surveillance photos. His desire to find out what was in the parcel won over his desire to flee from the office. 

Malfoy’s fingers untied the parcel deftly, and the owl flew out immediately after it was relieved. Malfoy picked up the parcel and carried it over to Harry. 

“Potter,” he handed him the parcel. “Open it.”

Malfoy sat down opposite Harry and picked up his tea again, watching intently. He seemed unfazed at the idea that just a moment ago, he was pleasuring himself in front of Harry.

Harry blinked, suddenly unsure if it had happened.

Harry looked down at the parcel. He brushed a finger over the lettering. As expected, it was sent from someone at the French Ministry of Magic. He slid a finger under the seam and the brown paper fell apart, revealing a plain white box tied with baker’s twine.

Harry untied the twine and opened the box. The stasis charm cast on the package lifted, and the aroma of butter, almond, dark chocolate, and hazelnut assaulted his senses. The box was warm to the touch and it was crowded with pastries; choquettes studded with sugar, flaky croissants, delicate macarons, chocolate glazed éclairs, and puffy madeleines nestled amongst squares of baking parchment.

“I don’t understand, what is this?” Harry frowned at the contents.

“Pastries, you wanker.”

“I know that,” Harry said, annoyed. “I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”

Malfoy took a deep breath, inhaling the tantalizing aroma issuing from the box.

“When the war was over, I was refused countless opportunities because of my mistakes as a child. Because of my parents and my last name.” Malfoy explained.

He continued, “And it wasn’t just me—Pansy, Greg, Theo, Millie—we were all branded as Death Eaters, when I was the only one who took the mark.”

Malfoy put down his tea, leaned over the table towards Harry, and plucked a madeleine out of the box. His eyes lowered as he took a small bite.

“I was lucky. I had enough money to try and give back to the wizarding world. I had money, so I didn’t have to work at first, I could volunteer my time and try and make things better for the Malfoy name, and for Slytherins in general.” Malfoy ate the rest of the madeleine and dusted his fingers. 

“Pansy’s married to Marcus Belby, a Ravenclaw.” Malfoy let out an unamused laugh. “I once thought I would marry her, despite my preferences. It was a good match for our families—until the war happened. He treats her decently, though, and she’s been able to stay in London because of him.”

Malfoy leaned over again, this time to extract a macaron from the box. He took a delicate bite and let out a little moan. Harry fidgeted, still unsure of why Malfoy was telling him all of this.

“These pastries,” Malfoy gestured at the box, “They’re from Greg, believe it or not.”

Harry tried to hide his surprise. 

“He’s in France?”

Malfoy nodded. “After the war, he spent every last galleon he had to open up a small bakery in Hogsmeade. He could barely afford the rent, but that didn’t stop him.”

“He thought that if everyone could just taste what he could create, they wouldn’t care that he was a Slytherin, that he was Draco Malfoy’s loyal friend.” Malfoy turned away, his eyes clouded over, reminding Harry of cold, winter rain. Harry wondered if he was thinking about Crabbe. 

Malfoy turned back to look at Harry, eyes clearing. “I wanted to help him, offered him money, but he refused. Greg had to shut down the bakery after a month, and he decided to go to France for a fresh start.”

Malfoy allowed himself a proud smile. “He is the head pastry chef at the French Ministry of Magic now. He knows I have a sweet tooth, so he sends me pastries every day—at three o’clock—and he has never missed a day. He is still my most loyal friend.”

“So yesterday—” Harry began.

“You barged in just as I was picking up the éclair I had dropped. Blaise happened to be visiting and he was encroaching on my tea time.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, “But you had a little something—” Harry gestured to the side of his mouth.

“Pastry cream, you prat.” Malfoy said, suppressing a smirk.

Harry felt his whole face redden. “Y-you led me on to believe that you and Blaise—”

“I _was_ trying to explain myself at first.” Malfoy interrupted.

Harry was mortified. He had watched Malfoy touch himself, and had led himself to believe that Malfoy was trying to _seduce_ him. Harry’s face paled in realisation as he said, more to himself than to Malfoy, “Merlin. Hermione was right. I’m obsessed.”

He could not stand another moment being in Malfoy’s office, with Malfoy’s eyes on him, all smug. Harry pushed the box of pastries onto the table, shoving the teapot precariously close to the edge in the process. He shot Malfoy one last look of embarrassed horror, and fled from the office again.

_____  
 

The next day, Harry and Ron were running over details for a new case when an owl flew in. The owl deposited a small parcel on Harry’s desk and swooped out.

Harry opened the parcel. It contained a short note and a single profiterole enrobed in dark chocolate. He snatched the note and scanned the narrow, cursive script:

_Potter— You know where you can find more of this. Feel free to drop by if you so desire._

While Harry was reading the note, Ron picked up the profiterole, eyes bright with glee, and took a bite.

“Merlin’s pants, that’s fucking delicious.” Ron said through a mouthful of crispy pastry and chocolate mousse. A bit of the dark chocolate glaze got stuck to the corner of his mouth.

“Ron, we’re _Aurors_. That could have been filled with poison.”

Ron shrugged. “S’not though. 

Harry snatched the rest of the profiterole out of Ron’s hand and shoved it in his mouth. Harry let out a low moan, it was the best thing he had ever eaten.

“Gotta go.” Harry said as he snatched his robe and left.

_____  
 

Parkinson didn’t try to stop him this time as Harry walked into Malfoy’s office. It was a quarter past three o’clock. 

From the threshold of the door, Harry watched as Malfoy ate the last bites of a beignet, and licked off the powdered sugar on his lips. Malfoy examined his fingertips and swiped his tongue across the sugary remnants. 

Harry felt a tug of longing and his body began to react in arousal. Malfoy was wearing another suit, a rich blue one this time, and he looked as fucking delicious as the bloody pastries he was eating.

"Oh, I didn’t see you there, Potter. My mother would be appalled by my manners. Would you like a pastry?" Malfoy innocently asked as he gestured to the box open on his desk.

“I suppose I should thank you for the one you sent over, it was delicious.” Harry said as he crossed the room and took a seat in front of Malfoy’s desk.

Malfoy leaned back and watched Harry. “The éclairs are exquisite. And the profiteroles, the one you had, are to die for.” Malfoy paused and smiled. “But the almond croissants are my favourite. ”

Harry picked up a croissant topped with toasted almonds and powdered sugar. He bit into the flaky, buttery layers. The almond filling was nothing Harry had ever tasted before. He let out a low moan. “Damn, that’s really good.”

Harry took another bite, closing his eyes and savouring the pastry. He made another noise of pleasure. He could eat these all day.

Harry’s eyes flew open in surprise as Malfoy lunged at him over the desk, knocking the box of pastries on the floor. Malfoy’s lips crashed into Harry’s, and he dropped the uneaten half of the croissant.

Malfoy kissed him forcefully and pushed his tongue hotly into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s mouth tasted like sugary sweetness, almond and chocolate.

“Merlin, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Malfoy said breathlessly as he pulled away and straightened up. “Did you really wank thinking about me?” He asked as he walked around the desk and grabbed Harry by the shirt, pulling him upright.

“I–I did.” Harry admitted. He let Malfoy manoeuvre him to lean against the desk. Malfoy kissed a line down Harry’s neck. Harry could feel the curve of Malfoy’s smile, in response to Harry’s admission, against his skin.

“I touched myself thinking about you.” Malfoy said softly, wickedly, as he slid his hands underneath Harry’s shirt, exploring the flat expanse of Harry’s stomach. Harry caught Malfoy’s mouth in his, and pushed his tongue into the wet warmth.

Malfoy broke the kiss and continued. “Right here at my desk, after you left yesterday.” Harry felt Malfoy’s cock grind with agonising friction against his own erection, and canted his hips.

“I thought about your cock in my mouth.” Malfoy said. He tugged down the zip of Harry’s jeans. Harry gasped as Malfoy pushed a hand into Harry’s pants and wound it tightly around his cock.

“Fuck, Malfoy.” Harry muttered as Malfoy began to stroke him. Harry adjusted, tugging his pants and jeans down his hips.

Malfoy got down on his knees. His breath ghosted over Harry’s cock, and Draco smiled at the involuntary twitch. Malfoy licked his lips and looked up at Harry through blown-out pupils. Without warning, Malfoy’s tongue darted out to press against the base of Harry's erection, causing Harry to groan loudly. Malfoy slowly licked up the entire length, the lazy pace driving Harry mad. 

Harry quelled his hips as they thrust forward, seeking more of Malfoy’s hot mouth. Malfoy swirled his tongue around the head and swiped over the sensitive slit. He smirked around Harry's cock as Harry reacted with another low groan. Malfoy wrapped his mouth and tongue around Harry's cock and began to suck the shaft, working into a steady rhythm.

Harry braced a hand on the desk to steady himself. The pressure and sensation of Malfoy's mouth sliding around his cock made his knees weak. He closed his eyes and thread his other hand through Malfoy's hair.

Harry felt Malfoy's slick mouth withdraw from his cock and heard a muttered spell. Malfoy returned his attention to Harry’s cock. He swirled his tongue around the head of Harry’s cock, causing Harry to groan again. 

Malfoy’s hand drifted under and slick fingers began to tease and circle Harry’s entrance. Harry’s head dropped back, his mouth gaping open. Malfoy swallowed him to the hilt in the same moment as he slid a wet finger into Harry’s tight hole, causing Harry to gasp and arch off the desk. He pushed a second slick finger into Harry and was rewarded with a moan.

The combined sensation was pushing Harry to the edge as Malfoy continued to slide his fingers into Harry and work his mouth around his cock. Sensing he was close, Malfoy withdrew his fingers and mouth, drawing up to press his clothed body against Harry, pushing him to lie on the desk.

Malfoy sucked on Harry's exposed throat and moved towards his mouth, capturing Harry's lips between his and twining his tongue around Harry’s. Malfoy tasted like a mix of sweet pastry cream and Harry's precome. Harry moaned and pulled back enough to just touch Malfoy's lips. “You taste fucking delicious."

He could feel Malfoy's lips twitch. "I could say the same about you.”

Harry’s hands roamed over Malfoy's suit jacket and pushed it open. Malfoy shrugged off the jacket and loosened his tie, dropping it to the floor. Malfoy’s mouth was at his neck again, nibbling at Harry’s sensitive skin and causing him to moan and thrust against Malfoy’s hardness.

“I want your cock.” Harry groaned. His hand fumbled with the buttons on Malfoy’s shirt, pulling it half open and exposing his lean body. He pulled Malfoy's belt loose, lowered the zip of the trousers, and rubbed Malfoy's erection through his pants.

Malfoy pulled off his pants and trousers and tossed them to the side. He ground his bare shaft against Harry’s.

“I want to feel your mouth on my cock, I want you to taste me before I fuck you.” Malfoy said in a low voice. He positioned himself so that he was straddling Harry’s chest, his cock inches from Harry’s face.

Harry let his head fall back on the desk and wet his lips, leaving his mouth open. Malfoy placed his cock over Harry’s mouth. He teased his cockhead against Harry’s lips for a moment and then groaned as he slid into Harry’s wet mouth. He thrust into Harry’s mouth once before withdrawing and pushing himself off of the desk.

Harry slid off the desk and took off his pants and jeans. He pulled off his t-shirt, exposing his broad chest and toned body. Malfoy, wearing nothing but his halfway unbuttoned collared shirt, looked at him with desire in his eyes.

“Merlin. I want you to fuck me, Malfoy.” Harry said in a rough voice. He turned to face the desk, exposing his arse.

Malfoy slid an arm under Harry’s waist, kissing and nuzzling down the arch of Harry’s back. His cock pressed against Harry as he continued to kiss his way down.

Malfoy grabbed his wand and muttered a lubrication charm. Harry could feel Malfoy’s fingers on his arse, and Malfoy’s cock tracing the line towards Harry’s hole. Harry pushed back slightly against the head of Malfoy’s cock.

“Not so fast, Potter.” Malfoy murmured. He continued to tease Harry’s entrance with the slick head of his cock. With a low moan, Malfoy slowly pushed into Harry’s hole, sliding himself into Harry’s tightness.

Harry shuddered against him and moved to wrap a hand around his own cock. Malfoy began to pull out, withdrawing almost entirely from Harry before pushing back in, a little faster this time. Harry grunted and pushed back against Malfoy again.

“Malfoy,” Harry growled warningly.

Malfoy began to thrust faster, losing himself in the hot pressure. He threw his head back and thrust deep, fucking Harry hard against the desk, not caring if anyone could hear his loud groans. Harry began to stroke himself faster, making noises and low grunts.

Malfoy pushed Harry’s hand away and wrapped his own around Harry’s cock. Harry’s cock was slick with precome. Malfoy began to pull on Harry’s erection in time with his thrusts.

He fucked Harry faster and deeper. His hand continued to tug and slide over Harry’s cock with agonising pleasure until Harry let out a loud groan, tensed, and came all over Malfoy’s hand. Malfoy could feel his balls tighten. He erratically thrust into Harry a few more times until a final deep thrust pushed him over the edge and he came hard, pulsing in Harry, gasping for breath.

Malfoy slowly pulled out of Harry and collapsed onto the chair.

Harry slid to the floor and sat leaning against Malfoy’s desk. He closed his eyes and grinned. “Wow.”

Malfoy smirked and began buttoning up his shirt.

“Shame about the pastries.” Malfoy said. They were strewn all over the floor, the overturned box cast off to one side.

Harry laughed, attempted a cleaning charm on himself, and pulled on his clothes.

“And you didn’t even get a chance to try the éclair…” Malfoy hummed thoughtfully.

“Yea, I guess not.” Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose I’ve got to get back... I sort of just left.”

Harry began to make his way towards the door. Before reaching the threshold, he paused and turned back, “So I’ll see you at three o’clock tomorrow?”

A look of surprise flitted across Malfoy’s face. He quirked a brow and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“See you tomorrow, Potter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to williamsnickers for beta'ing, any leftover mistakes are mine alone. Thank you also to the DTH 2017 mods, vaysh and digthewriter. Lastly, thank you to ssounette for the delicious prompt.


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